Come to the Darkside, We Have Muffins: A Drabble Collection
by Slinky-and-the-BloodyWands
Summary: A collection of 100 word drabbles involving the shenanigans of the Big Bads of Supernatural. They range from funny to "slice"-of-life, from pre-series to season 8, from Crowley to Azazel, with a few minor crossovers mixed in.
1. The King of Hell

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural or any of the pop culture references made throughout this drabble collection.

**A/N**: And, first up, a handful of drabbles from the King of Hell with a few small crossovers mixed in the lot.

* * *

"COME TO THE DARKSIDE, WE HAVE MUFFINS"

* * *

Crowley stepped into the bakery craving a cupcake. When he realized this was a new age, healthy gluten-free-and apparently cupcake-free-vegan shop, he considered massacring the hipsters herded at the counter. Instead he begrudgingly ordered the biggest muffin behind the glass, a "soy protein" concoction promising cranberries.

Crowley tossed the shop-girl a bill, took a tentative bite…and immediately spat it back out, disgusted.

"What in Beelzebub's name is that?"

"Dude?"

He glared up at the girl. "That tastes like dead babies and misery." He paused in thought. "I'll take a dozen."

If they could fool him, they could fool a Leviathan.

* * *

"HOW TO TERMINATE EMPLOYEES"

* * *

"How do I put this?" Crowley lifted one foot up out of the cave's shallow water, frowning in distaste at the moaning polyps stuck to his ankle. What a waste of souls. "Ursula, darling, I know we're from two different worlds, but the rules remain the same…We need souls, not lovely singing voices. We've been over this before."

The cecaelian sea witch flopped her tentacles. "-I've been making deals with poor unfortunate souls since before you were born! You mean to tell me how to do my job? Me?!"

Crowley raised a brow. "I suddenly have a craving for calamari."

* * *

"S'MORES"

* * *

Crowley blew out the flaming marshmallow.

"It's burnt," someone whined.

The demon glared at the two small children sitting across from the fire. "It's perfect," he snapped. "Hand me those crackers."

The girl scrambled to obey. He added the chocolate to one side, squeezing the gooey goodness onto his graham cracker sandwich.

"That," he announced, "is how it's done. Now. The two of you will deliver four of these to my camper every evening…" He leaned forward, letting the flames light his red eyes. "Understood?"

The wide-eyed children nodded.

Perhaps this whole 'hiding from Godstiel' thing wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

"GOT BLOOD?"

* * *

"Of course Purgatory's front door requires bloody blood of a virgin," Crowley muttered, annoyed.

While he enjoyed the dark arts, performing a location spell for virgins was tricky business, and picking one off of the street wasn't really reliable. Unless he snatched up a kiddie…he could probably swing by a daycare while—

Crowley's thoughts cut off. Parked in front of him was a bus, painted red, a line of youths in front of it, all willing to give blood for a good cause. And to tell any fool with a needle if they were sexually active.

"Well, that was easy…"

* * *

"SURPRISINGLY DIDN'T MAKE A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL"

* * *

"Sir?"

Crowley slowly turned away from the stack of contracts.

"Excuse you?"

His assistant gave a nervous, apologetic smile. "My Grace," she corrected.

He unrolled a scroll. Noticing the name across the bottom, he huffed and tossed it over his shoulder, reaching out for yet another contract. "What is it? I'm looking to see how long we need to put up with _The Adventures of Sparkle 'n Klutz_…"

"My Grace, the contract you're looking for...It doesn't exist."

"Surely we have her on a standard—"

"We've all checked."

Crowley gaped. "How the Hell is the Meyer woman not on contract?"

* * *

"HAPPY EASTER! ~LOVE, HELL"

* * *

Crowley leaned back in his throne, popping a jelly bean into his mouth and listening to the sounds of celebration.

He had to admit…he rather enjoyed Easter. Or, at least, he enjoyed celebrating it in Hell. None of the old higher-ups had bothered to note the many modern holidays taking place topside, but this was a new Hell with a new king.

Frankly, both life and death were a bit boring without a little something to shake things up, and if that meant he had to release the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog upon the souls on Easter, so be it.


	2. Everyday Deviance

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural or any of the pop culture references made throughout this drabble collection.

* * *

"HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!"

* * *

The package sitting on his current meatsuit's front porch was wrapped in simple brown paper, a hand written tag hanging from a twine bow across its width.

_'Happy Father's Day, Daddy! I think you've been looking for this._

Love,  
Your Devoted Daughter'

Azazel raised a brow but brought it inside, nevertheless. He carefully unwrapped it, then smiled as soon as he saw what was inside. It was a heavy, ancient book, bound in human skin, inked with human blood. Azazel had always wondered what had happened to his copy of the _Necronomicon Ex-Mortis._

His little girl knew him too well.

* * *

"WHEN CROWLEY MET GROWLEY"

* * *

It was a sniveling hovel of black goo and sharp puppy teeth, blind eyes still closed from birth, a short snake-like tail whipped around its back legs. Worst of all, it was mewling like a bloody kitten in short, panicked bursts, its tiny maul open and searching for its mother. Crowley sneered down at it before raising one eye at the crossroads demon currently acting as his supervisor.

"Do I really need one of these?"

She smiled, flashing her red gaze at him. "It's your hellhound, little demon. If you're working the crossroads, you need one to collect your dues."

* * *

"WHEN I SEE AN ELEPHANT FLY"

* * *

Sam was still far from reaching his full potential, but over the past few months, Ruby had been able to carefully steer him in the right direction. It was slow work, playing the part of the white hat, but Sam was almost battle ready…If he'd quit wasting time. Example?

She looked over her shoulder, huffing at his spread-eagle form, hogging the bed. She eased down onto the sofa and grabbed the remote.

"Oh!" Ruby smiled, turning up the volume just as a Jim Crow began to sing to little Dumbo. Maybe she could let Sam sleep just a bit longer.

* * *

"EVERYONE HAS THOSE DAYS"

* * *

It had been a rotten day from the start, so he'd aimed for an easy job, attending a horrid family reunion. There was potato salad, snot-nosed brats, feuding uncles, and kissing cousins. It should have been ripe with opportunity.

Crowley pretended to be a cousin to get close to the old bird who seemed the most desperate amongst them. He laid out a deal to save the family estate, only to look up and find she'd nodded off during his pitch. And died.

What did he get for his trouble? Food poisoning from Aunt Bertha's casserole. What a bloody day.

* * *

"FML"

* * *

Abaddon walked down the street, catching surprisingly few stares considering her newly sewn-on hands and that she was inside a corpse. Ignorance was an advantage to this age, and when she'd first arrived, she'd been delighted by the change in dress—so sinfully liberating—and societal norms. Then, of course, everything had quickly gone downhill.

A filthy salesman held her King's throne.

Demons no longer worshiped Lucifer.

The Apocalypse was ruined thanks to two pretty boy hunters...

"FML!" a teenage girl snapped, a phone against one ear. Abaddon didn't know what that meant, but she was certain it applied here.

* * *

"FATHER OF VAMPIRES…AND PROCRASTINATION"

* * *

He'd made a promise of vengeance, one of many he'd made throughout the generations, and every few months one of his children would bring it up…

"The hunters, Father…"

"Yes, I know, my child," he'd reply, with a slow sigh. "We'll kill the Winchesters in due time."

Then, of course, he'd received word from a reputable source that one of the boys was currently in Purgatory and the other retired…A good enough excuse not to bother with them. After all, they were only humans, and he had _forever_ to hunt them down. He'd get to that…in another decade or so.

* * *

"A TEA PARTY MEETING"

* * *

The tiny metal lattice chair beneath her gave a threatening creak. Her knees hit the equally small table, and she held her breath as she watched her tea cup teeter on the edge of its saucer, then roll. The demon snatched up just before it hit the patio's cement floor, holding its minuscule handle between two fingers, her pinky sticking out awkwardly.

"Well?" the little girl across from her asked.  
Ruby frowned, then raised the empty cup to her lips. "Mmm," she hummed, forcing a tight smile.

The girl grinned in response.

Ruby really hated these secret meetings with Lilith.


End file.
